


Be Not Deceived

by Starsight (crownhearted)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Afterlife AU, Demon/Angel AU, idk whatever you wanna call this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-05-31 02:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6451915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crownhearted/pseuds/Starsight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I form the light, and create darkness: I make peace, and create evil: I the lord do all these things. - Isaiah 45:7 ||||| several excerpts from the afterlife.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In the start, this was going to be a linear chapter fanfiction exploring a relationship between Chara and Frisk with two side plots. However, inspiration is a jerk, and so I've decided to call this a collection of short excerpts instead. The end result, however, will still be Charisk and nothing has really changed about my main goal.

“Hello, Frisk.”

“How do you know my name?”

“Why, it is practically my job.”

“And what's your job?”

“Oh, I am the Devil.”

“Really?”

“You seem surprised.”

“I didn't think I'd ever meet the Devil.”

“Lucifer, Satan, the Antichrist, the Beast, Beelzebub, Deceiver-”

“No, I know who you are.”

“Oh?”

“I didn't expect to see you.”

“Ha.”

“And I didn't expect you'd be so-”

“Boring?”

“Good-looking.”

Needless to say, Frisk had made an impression on the Hell's most fearsome creature. Chara's stance drew up, shoulders squared, chin held high. They slowly slid their hands into the velvet black of their pockets, and took a few careful steps forward. They began to pace out a lazy circle around their newest resident in this twisted little underground hotel, red eyes gleaming; a lion sizing up their prey.

Frisk did not seem one bit bothered. They curiously looked around the throne room of one of the most important deities ever to exist, and admired the strange but harmonious clash of cave walls and ornate red velvet, the opposing aesthetic of rough stone and smoothed gold. Their hands behind their back, they waited patiently for whatever was to happen next, but did not seem particularly anxious or enthusiastic about … anything.

“You are aware that this is your eternal _damnation_ you are facing down, are you not?”

“Oh, uh-”

“That I am the ruler of this place, and it is very, _very_ rare that I meet the freshest underlings to come into being.”

“Well, sure-”

“I do not think you comprehend the position that you are in, Frisk, even though you claim to.”

“Oh, no, I get it. I'm dead, and I'm in Hell because I did some bad stuff in life.”

“You are not afraid? You are not sorry? You will not plead for mercy or redemption or forgiveness?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because I obviously deserve whatever I'm here for.”

“...You do not remember.”

“No, not really.”

“You are in Hell, meeting the Devil themselves, and you cannot recall what sins you have to atone for, and you are not...”

“No.”

Something was very wrong here. At last, the well-dressed being stopped in front of Frisk. They leaned down, hands still stuck in their own pockets, and bent at the waist until they were nearly nose-to-nose with Frisk. They searched the eyes of the other, and found...nothing. They found no lies, no deceit, but worst of all, they found no sin. Frisk did not remember what they had done, and no amount of torture would bring back the memory...which meant that their stay in Hell would be utterly pointless. With a frown, Chara righted themselves, and turned their back on the fledgling.

“You will stay here, and serve me.”

“I figured.”

“Personally.”

“ _Oh._ ”

For amusement, Chara let a long, skinny, leather-like tail, pointed like an arrow at the end, slash at the air for a moment. Their back to Frisk, they were sure the sight was interesting; a black appendage suddenly slicing the air and winding around it with the vicious strength and agility of a viper was sure to catch their attention. However, just as the human- now demon, they supposed- looked upon it, they vanished it once more.

They laughed at the expression of skepticism; surely, Frisk thought they were mad, to imagine such a cartoonish depiction of the Devil for an instant there. Chara simply returned to the grand throne, perched themselves upon it, and tipped a lazy hand to their right.

“Well, go on. Stand there, and wait for orders.”

Frisk did.

\------------------------------

“I do not understand what is so difficult about this, Frisk. Simply stand there, and do not move.”

“But it doesn't fit me!”

“Have you forgotten? Are you so dense? How much cotton is stuffed into your skull? You are supposed to be my right hand. _It is not supposed to fit_ _ **you**_ _, Frisk._ ”

“Well, I know that, but it's just uncomfortable, I-”

“We are nearly done. Do keep still.”

Chara stood in front of Frisk once more, overseeing as three small imp-like creatures hopped here and there, muttering and snickering and hissing, floating and bouncing and jumping, to fit a pair of wings to Frisk's back. They were marking the base of the wings up, which were of a very small size, but they did not quite fit against Frisk's back bones. They were for a different sort of demon, but the leathery bat-like wings pressed at strange angles into their body made them uncomfortable.

When the demons were done, Chara dismissed them, and they vanished in a cloud of smoke with the wings. The Devil sighed, and shook their head, returning to their throne. It was at that very moment, as Frisk was relaxing once more, that a bright white light began to filter in through the high dungeon doors of the throne room.

Frisk looked on curiously, never having seen such a thing before, and watched as they opened. A beautiful, ethereal being, draped in flowing white robes with a golden rope at the waist, looking every bit like the Renaissance paintings Frisk had looked upon as a child on Earth, came moving through the throne room. They calmly approached Chara, and held out a bright, white envelope.

“The Word of God.”

“...” Chara did not seem responsive. They looked down at the envelope, and the Angel that accompanied it, and scoffed. Their eyes half-lidded, they looked away, and set their chin on their palm. The Angel waited for an uncomfortable amount of silent time, and spoke again.

“It is for you, Lucifer.”

“I realize that.” Chara snapped, and swiped the letter with deft fingers. They ripped it open, and impatiently unfolded the parchment within. Their eyes swept over it for barely thirty seconds, though Frisk did spy that it was a _two page letter_ , and then tossed it carelessly back at the Angel.

“There, I have read it.”

“...You must respond.” the Angel did not seem happy to be there. Frisk observed that they looked as though they both pitied, resented, and feared the entity in the throne before them. They were obviously aware that this was not their domain, but that they were told not to like the Devil- for obvious reasons.

“I am _aware._ ” Chara seethed, gritting their teeth. Frisk took a moment to observe again the letter, now in the Angel's hands. There was a very large, purple rune on the envelope, but in Chara's haste to open the letter it had been ripped a bit. Still, to Frisk, it did not look accidental.

Silence prevailed for far too long. The three beings- a Demon, an Angel, and a Beast- did not say anything as it stretched on endlessly. At last, Chara looked at the Angel and gave a wicked smile.

“Tell my brother that I say he is a coward.” they spoke slowly, deliberately, with each syllable enunciated in a way Frisk had always sort of heard, but never with quite so much clarity and emphasis as now. “Tell him...that if he wants to make things right, it is not too late to revise the original plan.”

As Chara waved their hand in dismissal, the Angel turned and left. Frisk was quiet, but not for long. From the right side of the throne, they spoke while staring at the closed doors.

“Your brother is God?”

Chara became rigid. It seemed that they had forgotten Frisk was there at all. They did not answer, and instead, inspected their nails. They fixed their tie. They straightened their jacket. Frisk thought they would not actually receive a response, but they were proven wrong several minutes later.

“Frisk, do you like it here?”

“Uh...”

“Do you like _me?_ ”

“Well, yes.”

“Why?”

“Because you don't seem all bad. Something tells me you could be a good person, if-”

Chara laughed, but something in their gut twisted, and they rose. They left Frisk in the Throne Room, alone, for an immeasurable amount of time; for it does not pass in the afterlife as it does in mortality.

\------------------------------

“Do NOT come to me with such TRIVIAL matters EVER again. Am I _**clear?**_ ”

Frisk had never heard Lucifer's voice rise, had never seen them so upset before. They were standing, stance wide and powerful, before a trembling demon. They stared wide-eyed at the display, as Chara's very _skin_ seemed to bubble beneath their clothes. Black ichor seeped from their sleeves, dripped to the ground, and molded itself into a daunting inferno around their sharp shiny shoes. Most definitely, now, Frisk could confirm that there was a whipping tail lashing from side to side coming from their back, and most impressive of all- most _dramatic_ of all- was their wings.

Chara's wings were making themselves known for the first time. Frisk watched from behind, as they appeared like vapor, like mist turned to ash, and slowly they expanded. The wingspan was ridiculous. It kept going, forever and ever, until the breadth of them could encompass a tiny crowd of people or a small crowd of children safely from a storm. The skin of them was cracked, blistering, volcanic; the fissures in the wings glowed orange-white-red-hot, threatening and painful. It was a stunning sight, and the demon with the wrath of Hell upon them was a mess of fear of anxiety in the shadow of such impressive extensions.

They skittered away, as Frisk expected, but Chara did not calm down.

And then Frisk spoke far too soon.

“I've never seen you get so angry before.”

Chara's head sharply turned, and their red eyes _glowed_ in the dimness of the throne room in a way Frisk had never seen them before. Silence prevailed once again, perhaps Chara's favorite device for making their victims _think_ , or _suffer,_ and they fully turned. They approached Frisk, and stood before them, arms spread.

“Do you still think I can be a _good person?_ ”

“...Yes. Of course I do. Just because you lost your temper-”

Chara laughed. They laughed, and Frisk saw the change in their teeth first; sharper, almost animalistic teeth, their right canine a tiny bit sharper and larger than any other tooth, giving them a bit of a poking overbite. Their features became inhumanly tight, their steps no longer precise but _shambling_ , and they snatched Frisk's chin with their right hand. They jerked their chin upward, and leaned in close to their face.

“You are **wrong**.”

Frisk did not say a word, but rather, they reached up and placed a hand very lightly over the place where the Monarch of the Underworld would have a heart. Perhaps they had intended to push the other away, perhaps they had intended to pull them closer, but the intention did not matter once it had happened. The moment their skin came into contact with the fabric of the Beast's suit, the leather of their wings fell and scattered to ash, revealing not only the fact that it was all a trick, an illusion, but also quite the sight.

Wings black as night, but beautiful, feathery, soft- just like the Angel's- were all that flooded Frisk's vision then. They were a gorgeous sight to behold, truly, but while every aspect of them was Heavenly, the color suggested otherwise.

The ichor stopped. The flames subsided. Their teeth receded and their whole body seemed to shrink as their wings changed. Frisk looked to their eyes once again, and dared not put a name to the expression on Lucifer's face just then.

“You were an Angel, weren't you?”

No answer.

“...What did you do to Fall here?”

“I loved God too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art specifically created for this fic by beforuskanaya on Tumblr.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here! - 2 Corinthians 5:17

“Are you sure this is what you want, kid?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.”

“But...you could be with us! You could be happy, Frisk.”

“Who's to say I'm not gonna be happy if I do this?”

“Well, I...truthfully, I suppose I could not say. But only because I do not know what you are going back for! Will you not tell us, before you depart?”

“I can't, I'm sorry.”

“We're all gonna forget about it right away, kiddo.”

“Yeah...but I can't take the chance that something won't go faulty and someone will remember. It's gotta be like this. I'm sorry, guys...I really do wish I could stay.”

“Frisk...please...”

“Trust me- it's not bad, I promise, Toriel.”

“Well...”

“Just tell the others I...I'll be there in a bit.”

“If you are certain this is what you really need to do, Frisk...I am certainly not one to stop you.”

“I trust ya. You know what you're doin'. So go on, get outta here- the sooner you leave, the sooner you'll be back, right?”

“Right. ...I'd say I won't forget you, but- that's kinda the whole point, haha. ...You guys are gonna make great Angels.”

“Oh, I dunno if all of us are gonna be Angels...”

“Huh?”

“Go on. Scoot. Tori's gonna start crying again.”

“Sans!”

“Bye guys!”

A distinct sensation of falling, a lightness of mist and soft white, and then darkness.

Complete darkness.

Frisk stood and found that there was no solid ground they could see, but they were certainly standing on something level, flat; ground but not. They peered around and continued to see nothing but blackness. It was almost suffocating.

“Chara?” They cried, but already their memory was fogging. The remnants of Toriel, Sans, Papyrus, Undyne, Alphys- everyone- were fragmenting, breaking from their memory. They knew they only had to remember a single name, though.

“Chara? Chara?” they repeated again and again, walking – hopefully, forward – and looking around as though there were anything to see. They felt like hours passed as they called loud and soft, angry and sad, gleeful and frustrated, that single name. They didn't even know who or what belonged to it anymore, they just knew they had to get to Chara. There was an aching, longing, nagging feeling in their chest that said so. It was all they knew, all they remembered.

Growing weary, Frisk finally stood still and closed their eyes. A deep, deep breath in and out, they thought their words very, very hard, with all their might: _I need to find Chara._

When they opened them, they were standing in front of grand stone doors, so high that they felt dwarfed simply by standing before them. They could not imagine having to open them alone; but they tried. Surprised, they opened, and Frisk stepped through with a feeling of foreboding.

On a massive, velvet-lined throne, sat quite the sharp looking figure. Their hair was straight and their eyes were bright red, Frisk could tell even from far away. A red carpet to match their red eyes and the red velvet and the red feeling in the room; it was very _Hell-vintage_ , Frisk thought.

They approached, undaunted despite their senses screaming to be careful, and stood before the throne, which was raised by a platform with six small steps presumably used to mount and dismount it. They locked their hands behind their back, and looked the person right in the eye.

“Hello, Frisk.”

“How do you know my name?"

“Why, it is practically my job.”

“And what's your job?”

“Oh, I am the Devil.”

Well, _this_ sure wasn't Chara, was it?

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For he is God's servant for your good. But if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer. - Romans 13:4

“This...is definitely not what I expected.”

“What did you expect, exactly?”

“I dunno, but...not _this._ It's...almost hilariously-”

“That is the spirit. Find the misfortune of the human race **funny**. You are really adapting to this world, perhaps I was wrong about your sorting.”

“No, I mean...it's just, it's like a cartoon.”

“...It is _not._ ”

In all the time they had been the Monarch of the Underworld, Chara had _never_ thought of it like that.

They had finally decided it was time to show Frisk the job of the lesser demons- that is, all of the demons in Hell, since the whole of them were lesser in comparison to Chara. They supposed such a thing were true of Frisk, now, too- being the Devil's right hand came with perks. Naturally, Frisk did not understand or afford much to them.

Still, it was a curious idea, that what they were witnessing now was more like a mortal _television show_ than a real act of sin and ill-will to Frisk. They crossed their arms and squinted at the scene, trying to parse the information, translate it the way Frisk spoke about it.

They were in a college dormitory. A young man was watching television with a young woman, the glow of the screen the only light in the room- well, on the human plane, anyway. What Chara and Frisk observed, however, were two extra beings in the space, one giving off a radiant glow and the other dripping with black ink. They each stood behind the couch, faces close to the man's ear, voices opposing and low but becoming aggressive.

“Think of how hurt Vanessa will be.” The Angel crooned, “Think of her tears, of the crack in her voice when she asks if what she heard is true. Think of how hard it will be to lie to a girl so in love with you. You are young, do not burn this bridge, Nathaniel-”

“She won't be hurt if she doesn't find out.” Purred the Demon, their lithe hand reaching out to curl along the mortal's jaw, as if coaxing him- and he did seemingly follow it, his head turning to look down the girl's shirt as she leaned against his side. His eyes were stuck on her chest, and the Demon grew more passionate in their hissing to his ear. “And really, how _will_ she find out? Are _you_ going to tell? No, you're not. And she won't, either. She'll be too ashamed, and that's not _your_ problem, is it? It's fool-proof. It's a quick one.”

“Remember last Saturday, at the football game- she wore a jersey with your name on it. Imagine how she'll feel with that in her hands, knowing you cheated on her. You cheated her out of her love, her dedication, her loyalty, Nathaniel. Don't do this.” The Angel became pleading, but the Demon began to laugh over their words as the man in question leaned his head atop of the unnamed woman. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and the Demon stood upright. They practically shimmied over near the Angel, and draped _their_ arm around the Angel's shoulders, squeezing them in against their side tightly.

“Sorry, sweetheart, looks like this one's _mine._ Lust's a _bitch_ , isn't it?”

The Angel stiffened, and their wide, feathery wings rustled in annoyance. They expanded and pushed the Demon away as the Angel turned their back.

“Do not _sully me_ with your filthy _aura_ , Demon.”

“Is being a sore loser a _sin_? Because you're a dirty little sinner, Patricia.”

“Do not use the Name the Lord gave to me! You are not to speak it!”

“I don't abide by your petty little rules. Now run home and cry to daddy.”

The Angel vanished in white smoke, just as Nathaniel engaged the nameless woman in a passionate kiss, and the Demon chuckled.

Chara waved their hand, and with not even so much as a lurch, they were back in the Throne Room.

“It's like the shoulder angels and shoulder devils in the old cartoons.” Frisk chimed, almost cheerfully.

“I suppose if you would like to be childish about it, that is a...somewhat accurate comparison.” Chara nearly sneered. They did not like the idea of their unlife's work being _comedic_ , or in any way similar to a children's animated moving picture performance.

“So why did you show me that?”

“I thought you should see what you might be doing, were you not my right hand.”

“...What? What if I don't want to?”

“Oh, you do not have a _choice_ , Frisk. That is what happens to those who sin in life.” Chara's smile was small, but terrible. “The Devil grants them every carnal pleasure, every instant gratification in life, until they die. Then their SOUL belongs to me, and they are my indentured servant forever. You learn to love it.”

“What if people refuse? Has anyone ever refused before?” Frisk sounded almost desperate. Chara liked it.

“Oh, of course people refuse. All the time. They land here and plead, beg, grovel- they try to convince me that they were improperly sorted, that there is a mistake. But the Judge does not make mistakes, and they are all here because they are irredeemable. They have no remorse, no guilt, no shame- until they are caught. _Until they are faced with the consequences of their actions with no more of my aces up their sleeves to bail them out._ ” Their voice was laced with a gleeful venom, the kind commonly found in the hungry mouths of vipers and serpents of all sizes. “They serve me, and if they refuse, I make them change their mind.”

“How?”

  
“I remind them of their vice. Humans are weak, pathetic creatures. No matter how you warn them, no matter the battles they win, they will always have the heel of Achilles, and they will always be struck down with a single arrow in the right place.”

“...Even Angels?”

“Angels are merely Demons that died too early to be called such.” Chara spat these words with such furiousness, low and cold and calm, that Frisk decided to stop asking questions like that one. Chara was glad for it.

“...So why do you want more humans here?”

“It is a game of numbers, Frisk. The more you have on your side, the better your chances of winning.”

“Winning what? Tic-tac-toe?” The right-hand snickered, and Chara rolled their eyes.

“No. Winning the war.”

“War...? But nobody's-”

“It is a story for another time. Go to the ninth corridor and reap the rewards of the Demons in the sixth chamber. Bring a record back to me.”

“...Okay.” Frisk gave a sigh, and left.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? - Luke 15:4

Frisk knew they should not be opening these letters. They knew, with very little doubt, that Chara did not want them to see whatever was written inside of this thin black envelope, stamped with the wax seal of the Underworld in blood red. It was all rather dramatic, and it made Frisk want to open the letter even _more_ when they imagined Chara melting the wax themselves and stamping down the seal, letting it dry and handing it over to Frisk to deliver.

But they knew not to. Chara would, somehow, find out. Still, the temptation was there, and they could not tear their eyes away from the mysterious communication. Unfortunately, this lead to some rather unfortunate consequences in the form of a short skeleton in a puffy blue jacket colliding right with their stomach.

"Oof! Hey, hey, what's the rush? 'S not like we don't all have _forever_ down here."

Frisk clutched the letter from Chara tight to their chest and looked wide-eyed at whomever they had bumped into. The skeleton was peculiar, with street clothes instead of any formal garb, and as Frisk surveyed their surroundings briefly they found that they had wandered into the most mundane looking waiting room they had ever seen.

The walls were beige, with generic canvas art of scenary in varying sizes both portrait and landscape. Wall-to-wall, the room was lined with plain red chairs, which had a bit of bend and give to them when one might sit down, made of a combination of metal and plastic. The floors were white with gray speckles in the tile, and the whole place felt sterile and empty. A few magazines were on tables pressed against the connecting corners of the room, and at one more narrow end of the rectangular room was a wooden podium. Frisk managed to take all of this in before remembering to respond to the person they had run into so rudely.

"Oh! Sorry, I was- distracted. Um, where am I, could you tell me?"

"Uh, you mean, you don't know?" The skeleton's eye sockets were empty, they were hairless and devoid of eyebrows, but it seemed that he was moving to make the motion with the way his forehead scrunched up.

"Well, no. I'm kind of...new."

"I can see that. You - don't even have wings. Heh. Guess you could say you've lost your flock?"

"Pftaha!"

"Haha, that's the spirit. Alright, so, what can I do ya for?"

"I'm looking for someone to deliver this letter to."

Frisk turned the letter around and showed it to the skeleton man, who didn't seem to survey it with much scrutiny. He shrugged and kept his hands in his pockets before turning and heading for the podium at the front most part of the room.

"Yeah, I might be able to help you with that, I guess." The skeleton sighed as they slowly ascended three tiny steps and made it up to the podium, leaning heavily with one arm on it to get comfortable. "It's from Satan, Lucifer, The Great Destroyer Of Worlds or whatever, right?"

"Yes!"  
"Yeah, hand it over, I'll take care of it."

"But..."

"Just give him the stupid letter!" A third voice rang out in the room and Frisk's eyes darted over to the place they thought it had come from. Sure enough, there sat a potted yellow flower, with a snarling face and a tall stem. Unbelieving, Frisk stared a little longer until the flower spoke again. "They come every, what, thousand years or something? I don't know how time passes in here, but _gosh_ is it ever tedious to prolong the inevitable."

"Ignore him." The skeleton grumbled, and brought a bony hand out to wiggle his fingers in gesture for the letter. Frisk swallowed, and looked back at the monster.

"Who is he? Actually, who are you- wait! Wait, no, I need to know where I _am_ , first."

"You're in Purgatory, kid. I'm the Judge, but I much prefer just Sans, thanks. And that's F-"  
"What do _you_ care who I am?" The flower sneered, baring his teeth and making Frisk turn their head back to look at them again. "The letter's not for me, so-"

"Like I was saying, that's Flowey." Sans interrupted. "He's been a resident here for a while now."

"Resident...? Sorry, I'm just- confused." Frisk stumbled over their own words and felt quite silly for how little they knew outside of Hell and the bit that Chara had been teaching them about their new afterlife.

"Yeah, what's new? A human who's confused. Never heard of _that_ before." Flowey grumbled, but seemed to tone down the hostility when it became apparent nobody was paying quite as much attention to him.

"It's fine, kiddo. Flowerpot over there is just grumpy because he's stuck here for a while as we figure out to do with him. He's a...special case. Hopefully, though, we get some answers in the form of this letter over here you got for me...?"

"Oh! Right, the letter! For the Judge." Frisk had nearly forgotten about the black envelope in their hands, and gave it to Sans without hesitation this time, upon knowing that he was the intended recipient. There was a pause as the Judge read it, and then a heavy sigh. He pulled a pen from seemingly out of nowhere, and glanced at Frisk- or seemed to, with empty black sockets- before speaking with a tired grin. "This could take a while to respond to. Hope you like waiting."

Sans vanished almost instantly after that, and Frisk frowned deeply as they were left to...wait. They turned and looked over at Flowey, who was staring right back at them, and gave a deep scowl.

"There are a BILLION other chairs in here, do you HAVE to sit next to me?"

Frisk laughed, and did exactly that, with a smile. Flowey pretended to gag, and after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the maybe-Demon struck up conversation.

"How come you're a special case? Have you been waiting here for a long time?"

"Ugh. A long time is probably an understatement. I can barely remember ever being _alive_."

"Do all flowers die and end up-"

"You idiot! Of course flowers don't DIE that way. Why do you think I'm a special case!?"

"...Oh, okay- that's true."

"Sheesh. Use your _brain_ , for once. You're not a dumb Angel, you should still _have_ one."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Frisk frowned deeply, disturbed by the idea.

"You weren't kidding when you said you were new, wow. All the Angels in Heaven get _brainwashed_ , can't remember anything about their life. They only remember other Angels vaguely, like, they'll know if they were friends or related in life, but they won't remember specifics."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah, and Demons aren't. Dunno why _they_ get to keep all their memories, though."

Silence permeated the air once again. The topic had run dry and Frisk had a lot to think over. They glanced at the podium again, and opened their mouth to ask another series of questions, when they were interrupted by Flowey.

"You could pick me up, you know. Carry me out the door. Take me down to Hell with you. At least then I'd _be_ somewhere. In here, you just wait and wait and wait _forever_ on the stupid skeleton to come back."

"I don't think I'm allowed to do that..."

Flowey bared fangs. "You're from HELL. Since when do you play by the rules? In this world-"

"You gotta be kidding me." Sans' voice, deep and baritone, rang out instead of Flowey's higher one. The skeleton rumbled with almost-laughter and held out a gray envelope to Frisk. It was sealed with wax, too, but had instead a winking depiction of Sans' face on it. It looked kind of silly, and made Frisk grin a bit to see it.

"Take this back to little Lulu. And tell 'em I said that."

"Pft-ahha!" Frisk couldn't help it. _Little Lulu._ Adorable. They would have to remember it. "Alright. ...Um, before I go-"

"Yeah?"

"What's the letter about?"

Sans seemed taken aback for a second. He clearly didn't expect Frisk to have the guts to ask outright that way. A confidential letter between Hell's Monarch and the Judge of Purgatory- it was all very important and strict business. A Demon without wings asking about it was a bold move. It put Frisk's position into perspective without them being aware of having done so at all. However, the skeleton seemed to consider actually telling them the truth with something like a twinkle in his eye socket.

"It's a little about Flowey," He admitted. "and the little Dark Monarch themself, too, I guess. There's...a situation that's been going on for quite a while. Lotsa _bones_ to pick between all three of us." Somehow, Sans winked.

"Euuuuuuuugh." Flowey clearly did not appreciate the fine art of a pun.

"Is Flowey supposed to go to Hell with the Devil?" Frisk asked, in earnest.

"Oh, haha, well-"

"Yeah! It's where I _belong_ , but for some reason the Smiley Trashbag won't just send me there!"

"It's a little more complicated than that. Flowey doesn't really belong...anywhere, yet. It's tough."

"What's so tough about it?" Frisk was becoming impatient. Sans was being cryptic, and it was frustrating.

"It's hard to sort someone who doesn't have a SOUL, pal."

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The memory of the righteous is blessed, But the name of the wicked will rot. - Proverbs 10:7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you a roleplayer? Do you want to know how this whole thing ends before everyone else? Do you have literally any interest in my writing at all? Please read the end of chapter notes!

"I remember you now."

"What?"

"I remember who you are. You're Chara. You helped me navigate the whole Underground."

"...I do not know what you are talking about, Frisk."

"I was looking for you. I - came here on purpose."

"That is impossible. You cannot just _decide_ to go to Hell."

"I don't remember why I was looking for you...but...I remember saving Monsters with you. I remember- the barrier? The barrier...."

"That is enough. I do not want to hear your spun stories. You have run your mouth far more than necessary in the short time you have been here with me. Go."

"Go where?"

"I do not _care_. Leave me. I will summon you when I need you."

"But-"

" **I am not asking. I am commanding.** "

* * *

 

So then there they were, alone, outside the Devil's chambers with nothing to do and no direction. They decided that they would just...walk, maybe try to remember some more. Everything was so foggy, everything before this underworld and this Lucifer. _Lulu_. Ha.

Frisk ambled without purpose along the many, many layers and caverns that this world had made for itself. They passed clumps and clusters of Demons of all shapes and sizes and colors, snickering, laughing, cackling; most looked human, but many were also nothing like it. Chara had once explained that some Demons, who embodied specific sins, had the ability to shapeshift to better suit their sin; and when they weren't actively tempting a human they liked to appear as strange or grotesque as possible as a sign of power or intimidation.

Frisk didn't really look at them so much as glance as they walked along, but eventually they came upon a lone Demon with very, very large black wings, leathery and spiked at the edges of each divot. They looked at Frisk with exhaustion, maybe boredom, and a little curiosity. They, easily, had the largest wings Frisk had ever seen on a Demon besides Chara- and they knew this to be a symbol of seniority, of power. This one had been down here a very, very long time. It seemed to regard Frisk with more apathy than intimidation, and so, Frisk approached.

"You've been here a very long time, haven't you?"

"Yes. And you are new."  
  
"I am."

" _Very_ new."

"Well...."

"You have no wings." The Demon presented themself as a man. He was short, with black slacks like Chara's, but a red button-down shirt and no theme of carefully cultivated cleanliness, the way Chara had. "That is a novelty here. You are considered a freak, an outsider. Add to that, you are the pet favorite of our new ruler."

"New? But...?"

"Oh, do you not know?" The Demon was grinning ear-to-ear. He cocked his head and black hair shivered atop his head, brushing a bit of bang against his forehead. "The Devil as they are now has not always been here."

"Well, I guess I understood that, because- I'm sure they inherited the position after dying. I think they mentioned that." Frisk raised a brow. The Demon reclined on a massive boulder behind them, and crossed their arms in response.

"No, you misunderstand again, little one. I have been here longer than they have. I have been here nearly from the beginning. There is no Lucifer. There is no Hades, or Beelzebub. There never has been."

"What...?"

"Whoever that is simply came down here as fresh and as young as you are, and asserted themself a leader when they became strong enough. Nobody recalls how. Not even I do. I simply know that this is not how it always has been, and _they_ \- whoever they are- are not the Devil."

"But why would anyone want that?"

"Beats me. The beauty of Hell was the carnage, the savage nature- nobody is in charge, nobody is in control. That is why it is a terrible place. Beings fight for power and control they will never have. _That_ is true damnation. The eternal struggle for something that will never be. No order, only chaos."

Frisk looked on in awe as the Demon winked, and then vanished completely.

* * *

 

"Chara- Chara Dreemur. You're a Dreemur. You're Asriel's-"

"Frisk. If you do not cease your chatter, I will-"

"I came here to bring you back! I came here to take you with me, back to Toriel and-"

" _ **Stop.**_ "  
**_  
_** "No! I'm not leaving without you, Chara! Everyone is happy, everything is okay- I even rescued-"

* * *

 

 

Every time Chara kicked them out, and every time, Frisk remembered more. The harder Chara tried to push them away, the more Frisk recalled. Again and again they argued, more and more damning evidence on the tip of Frisk's tongue, more and more promises of pain or agony on Chara's. Never once did they follow through with it. Never once did Frisk find that Demon again, even frantically describing him to others. They had never heard of him. Nobody had.

Nothing stopped Frisk from continuing to appear before Chara, plead their case, reveal new memories, and get kicked out again and again. It continued this way for ages. Time did not pass the same way here that it did for the living, and eventually Frisk did hit a roadblock, stop remembering things. They had no idea what else to do, where to go- they only knew that they needed Chara to come back with them, that they missed everyone they used to know. So they went to Purgatory again- but there was nothing. No Judge. No potted flower. Nobody. Just an empty waiting room and a vacant podium. They waited, and waited, but ultimately, nobody came.

All they knew was that they had to find out what was going on- for real, this time- and take Chara back home.

_'Wherever **that** is.'_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short- but important. I know it seems rushed, I know- but the last two chapters are heavy on explanations and I needed a transition. I know this isn't my best work- but I finally know what direction I want to go with this, and I needed this bridge. Please bear with me.  
> ***ROLEPLAYERS: I do best when I am able to co-write things. I'm reaching a point in this fic where I'm really struggling to parse it all out by myself. I know the outline of what I need to have happen, but the creativity (and ideas) that come with roleplaying are like, life blood. If you have any interest in being the Chara to my Frisk for a little while please contact me! You can comment here or message me on tumblr- moonkistprincess. Thanks guys! I really appreciate it.***


End file.
